No Happy Ever After
by Fiddlegirl
Summary: It's the 80th Hunger Games and President Snow is going to make sure it is an event no one will ever forget about. There is no happy ever after. This is now a closed SYOT. The tributes are ready to fight. Now, the question is...who is going to win this year's bloody Hunger Games? Rated T for fighting content.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a new SYOT story that I am starting. Please get involved. I would really appreciate it. The tribute form can be found at the bottom of the page. To give a look at the story, I wrote a brief prologue written in President Snow's POV. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks! **

**President Snow**

As I sit down at my dining room table, I remember how significant today's date is to my nation, the very civilization I am proud to own and govern. Today marks the beginning of the annual Hunger Games season. After 79 years of death, destruction and drama, I am looking forward to the 80th Hunger Games. I can already sense the blood that will be shed during this year's battle for superiority. As I sip my favorite red wine, I think back to some years ago when Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Melark won the Games. So much has changed since then, things I would prefer not to mention.

As for each district, today begins the moment when simple, average children from Panem's twelve districts break free from their homes and become warriors. They are not children. They are warriors and fighters. The Hunger Games proves that no one is innocent, even young teenagers whom may just began the process of discussing their purpose in life. Their purpose in life? Their purpose is to kill. Kill, devour, stab, tear, choke, murder. Isn't that what the Hunger Games are all about? Well, for twenty-four young teens, they will soon discuss what it is like to truly be a citizen in my nation.

No one is safe from destruction. No one is safe from murder, pain, blood and tears. No one is safe from anything because nobody survives the Hunger Games, not even the victor himself. Even though he killed twenty-three people and made it to the end, he didn't save himself from the thought of the murders he committed in the arena.

Like I said, no one is safe. No one is safe from themselves. We are our worse enemy. I hope nobody ever forgets that.

I am going to make sure this year's Hunger Games is no vacation trip for the tributes. No one is going to escape happy and "in love." I am done with that crap. I am done with everyone living happily ever after. There is no happy ever after in my world. I won't allow it. You people want to fight? Well, I'll give you a fight.

Let the 80th Hunger Games be an event no one will _ever _forget about. I'll make sure of it.

**Okay, here are the rules for the SYOT. Each person can submit up to three tributes. I don't really care if you recycle tributes. It's up to you. I will keep the list on my profile and update it when I get tributes. Then, when I have the official list, I will update chapter with the tributes name, but I won't include your username on it. You can either PM your tribute form or leave it in the review. It's up to you. I will accept both forms. Here is the tribute form and enjoy: **

Name (First and Last):

Gender:

Age:

District (Top 3):

Appearance (Hair, eyes, skin tone, weight, height):

Personality:

History:

Family/Friends:

Strengths (at least 3):

Weaknesses (at least 3):

Token:

Reaped or volunteered (why, if volunteer):

Reaping outfit:

Interview outfit:

Personal quote for interview:

Bloodbath strategy:

Open to alliances:

Attitude toward the Games:

Fears:

Open to romance?:


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This is another prologue chapter from President Snow to continue presenting the theme and feeling for this story. Again, if you are interested in being a part of this story, please fill out the tribute form found at the bottom of Chapter One. Thanks! **

**President Snow **

"Are all of the reapings about to begin?" I ask Maximus Jullius, the new Head Gamemaker I appointed for the Hunger Games this season.

When Maximus first spoke with me about the position, I saw him as a weak young man who just wanted the title of Head Gamemaker. I was ready to cast him aside with the others, but then he mentioned something astonishing, something I have never thought about before in my entire existence.

"_Am I perfect for this job? Hell no. But, do you really need perfection for the Hunger Games? Hell no. Nothing is supposed to be perfect. Everything is supposed to be spontaneous and cruel for the tributes. It keeps them on the edge. I am going to make the 80__th__ Hunger Games a bloody battle for everyone. Nothing will be the same. I am not going to care about if someone gets burned alive because I accidentally pushed a button to trigger fireballs. I don't care. I don't care if people kill each other on the first day in the bloodbath. I am here to ruin people's lives because that's what the Hunger Games is all about. If you hire me, sir, I won't disappoint you. I won't let anything be nice and pretty. I know your strategy, sir. I know your mind. I have the same mind. If you appoint me, I won't disappoint you. Please." _

I didn't need much convincing. He was completely right. The Hunger Games aren't supposed to be a good, healthy battle for superiority. It's supposed to be vicious and cruel. Only one person is going to survive. If Maximus shares my same opinions on the Games, then he is the perfect partner. He understands my mind, and he is willing to do anything to make sure the message is spread to Panem. No one survives anything when I am around. Now that Maximus is in charge of the Games, I know that this will be the best Hunger Games in history.

"The reapings are about to begin, but I don't think you should watch them, sir," Max tells me as he sits across from me on the couch.

"I always watch the reapings," I reply.

Watching the reapings is one of my favorite events during the Hunger Games season. Aside from the actual battles in the arena, it's an exciting day. I get to witness the very moment when these innocent teenagers break out of their comfort zones and become murderous villains. They walk onto the stage, stand next to their district partner and announce to their district that they are the chosen ones. They must fight to represent their district in the Games. No one else can do this but them.

"You might not want to watch them this year," Max says, his eyes glued to the television screen in the room. "Things are different. _I _made things different."

"How is it different?" I ask him, turning my head in time to see his cocked smiled and raised eyebrow.

"If you want to watch, you will soon discover the madness that is about to evolve in twelve districts. Tears will be shed. Families will be torn apart. Everything will be ruined."

I stare into his eyes as I process the information he just told me. Wait a second. The reapings are going to be disastrous? What are they going to do? What is Max going to do to these people? The reapings have always been very basic. The teenagers gather in the district square. The district escort speaks to the crowd as he or she presents the video explaining the history of the Hunger Games. One special girl and boy from each district is drawn from each bowl. The frightful teen walks up to the stage and stands before their fellow district, proudly serving as the tribute for this year's Games.

That's how it always goes, but what is Max masterminding for today? Tears will be shed? Families will be torn apart? Everything will be ruined? I don't understand, but I kind of enjoy it. I want destruction. I want this year's Games to be bloody. I guess you have to begin with the reapings to show everyone that "we mean business." Nothing is going to be simple. Nothing at all.

"What are you going to do?" I ask him.

He turns to me and smiles. He shakes his head and looks back at the television screen. As the screen comes to life, he sighs and leans over to whisper into my ear.

"You already know."

**Tribute List (incomplete, but slowly forming)**

**District 1: **

**M:**

**F: Lilium "Lila" Bloomer **

**District 2:**

**M: Joshua Katherson **

**F: Hunter Hadley **

**District 3:**

**M: Lancer Bloomer **

**F:**

**District 4:**

**M: Triton Bayer **

**F:**

**District 5:**

**M: Russell Tobias **

**F:**

**District 6: **

**M:**

**F:**

**District 7:**

**M:**

**F:**

**District 8:**

**M:**

**F:**

**District 9:**

**M:**

**F:**

**District 10:**

**M:**

**F:**

**District 11: **

**M:**

**F:**

**District 12: **

**M: Paxton Willis/Harley Millar **

**F: **

**A/N: Thank you for the submissions, everyone. I really appreciate it. If you submitted a tribute and you would like to submit another one, you can do that. Just fill out the form again with a new character. Keep the tributes coming! Thanks for reading. **

**As always,**

**Fiddlegirl **


	3. Chapter 3

**Maximus Jullius **

"You already know," I whisper into Snow's ear as I lean across the sofa, positioning myself extremely close to his body. He turns to me and looks into my eyes. "It's what we discussed last week, sir."

"I..I didn't think you were serious," he tells me, actually looking shocked at my serious tone. I smile and shake my head.

"I am always serious," I say as I lean back in the sofa, pushing the pillows up to make the seat more comfortable.

When I first began this position, I was very clear with my thoughts on the epic Hunger Games. I knew exactly what I wanted to do and I knew who I needed to manipulate to get my way. I had everything planned out in dozens of notebooks. They practically filled my apartment.

Then, one day I was trying to take a nap in the early afternoon, when I began counting sheep on my bedroom walls. I looked up at the ceiling and I realized something. The Hunger Games cannot be a planned event. Screw the notebooks. Screw the plans. There _are _no plans this year. Everything will happen when I snap my fingers. If I want someone to be blown up, one quick snap and a bomb will explode on his or her head. I know it is the kids' job to perform the killing, but I am the Head Gamemaker. What I say, goes. It's as simple as that. I am going to make this year's Hunger Games be so bloody that the people at home viewing it on their telescreens will vomit, pass out and crumble to their knees from the sight of their child bleeding to death on national coverage?

"They're starting," Snow tells me.

I lift my head to look at the screen in front of me. I close my eyes and count to ten. Then I hear the music begin to play. Everything is starting. The Hunger Games are starting and twenty-three teenager's lives are about to end.

I open my eyes and nod my head. I reach down and pull my pager out of my pocket. I hold it up to the air as I begin to see Caesar's face light up on the screen. I smile and turn to Snow. He leans over to my ear.

"Mass destruction, like we discussed?" he whispers into my ear.

"You see, you thought I was kidding about that silly idea, didn't you? But, no. I am new, sir. I am new to the Hunger Games, and I am going to begin to reign right now as we speak. I ask for mass destruction, and let's see the destruction begin, shall we?"

I turn my face to the screen and press a button on my pager.

"Begin the reapings. Begin them now, just as I instructed. Let the damage begin," I whisper into the speaker.

I close my eyes and lower the pager to my left knee. That's when I hear the screaming children blare out into the room. Snow grabs my hand and I open my eyes. I turn to the screen and see the reapings take place. Bodies are tossed from side to side. Sisters and brothers are ripped apart, clothing torn at the seams.

One boy and one girl is pushed onto the stage. They stand and look out at the crowd. They shake their heads and search the crowd to find their parents, but only to see them clinging to each other in grief over what just happened in the district.

I see the looks on the two teenagers' faces. This isn't normal. This isn't the typical reapings. I know that, children. I know that very well. I can't help but smile at their appearance. They look down to find their friends lying on the ground, perhaps dead. Maybe just bleeding and in serious condition. I don't really care. I saw what happened, and I'm glad. I'm glad it happened. No one will ever forget this day.

I grab my pager and hold it up to my lips. I press the speaker and nod my head.

"Voila. The damage is done."

**A/N: I know Maximus is an evil monster, but it adds something to the story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I am still looking for some tributes. I am posting the updated list below. If you are interested in being a part of this story, please fill out the form found on chapter 1. Thanks! **

District 1:

M: Marcel Raine

F: Lilium "Lila" Walker

District 2:

M: Joshua Katherson

F: Hunter Hadley

District 3:

M: Lance Bloomer

F:

District 4:

M: Triton Bayer

F: Pearl Pierce

District 5:

M:

F: Russell Tobias

District 6:

M:

F: Priston Copperton

District 7:

M: Steven Lewis

F: Copeland Rawls

District 8:

M: Farrin O'Haudh

F: Bobbin Petryrs

District 9:

M: Current Harries

F: Quinoa Rheape

District 10:

M: Carmichael Janx

F:

District 11:

M: Gregory Rambottom

F: Cinder Freeman/Pyre

District 12:

M: Paxton Willis/Harley Millar

F: Melissa Daser


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I really wanted to write a quick chapter before I left for vacation, so here you go. Again, this is another "prologue" until I finish the tribute list. Thanks! I hope you enjoy. **

**President Snow **

As the screen fades to black, I slowly lower my eyes to my lap, thinking about what I just viewed on the screen. Blood, bones, bodies slain in front of my very eyes. Parents clinging to each other as they watch their children pushed aside, pulled apart from their loved ones and cast aside as vicious criminals in what they thought what "home."

I close my eyes, but that only makes the images more vivid in my memory as I see the bright splashes of red blood and hear the screaming children fill my head like I am wearing headphones designed just for murder calls. I blink my eyes, but each time, the visions just become clearer in my mind.

"Why did that happen?" I whisper softly, mostly to myself, but also to Max.

I need answers. I know I wanted mass destruction, but I had no idea he was planning _that. _What I just saw was pure murder. Murder that would send me straight to Hell.

Max places his hand on my shoulder and I open my eyes. I lift my head and find him smiling at me. Smiling, like everything is perfect in life, but it's not perfect at all. Maybe it was a bad decision to hire Max as the Head Gamemaker. Did I finally make a bad decision in life? What else is he going to do?

"When you hired me, you said you wanted this year's games to be different than the past. You wanted destruction, am I correct? We had that discussion. You said you wanted the reapings to be different than ever before. You wanted to show people that you mean business, am I right? So, come on, Snow. I gave you what you wanted. Don't look at me like that. It was meant to be," he tells me.

He stands up from the sofa and walks over to the cocktail cart. He grabs his cup of Vodka and takes a quick sip, throwing his head back and gulping the liquid down his throat. He turns to me and shrugs his shoulders.

"I'm only doing my job, sir."

I stand up and shake my head. No, no…I didn't want _that _to happen. People died. Too many people died today. I never intended for that to happen. Never in a million years.

"I said I wanted the reapings to be different and I do want the Hunger Games to be a destructive event this year, but what you did today was insane. Do you know how many people you just killed? Probably millions! Children and parents are now slain because you ordered it to happen. Do you understand what you did?" I ask him.

He shrugs his shoulders again and places his cup onto the cart. He turns to me and walks over to me. His eyebrows scrunch together and he raises his hands up into the air.

"Fine, murder me. Execute me if you aren't happy with my work. Come on, Snow. I'm not scared of death. You can hang me on a wooden cross in front of the entire Capitol if you would prefer that kind of death for me. I personally could care less. But, I just want you to know something. You told me to put on a good show. You specifically instructed me to do whatever I could to show the nation of Panem that the Hunger Games are a vicious event that is meant to scream death! You told me to do that, and I began the process with some bloody reapings. Now, if you aren't happy with my work, maybe _you're _not as tough as I thought. Maybe you're soft, Snow," he says to me as he pushes past me toward the kitchen.

I grab his arm and push him against the wall. His head slams against the glass and he shouts at the pain of the impact. He turns his head to me and shakes his head.

"I'm not soft. I just want to make sure you know what you're doing," I tell him.

"I always know what I'm doing," he replies.

I suddenly release his body from my grasp and he steps away from the wall, smoothing his clothes and touching his head that is bleeding slightly.

"Good. Now prove it," I tell him.

He nods his head and turns around. He walks to the front door of my house. He grabs his jacket and opens the door. He pauses in his footsteps and turns to look at me.

"Don't go outside," he tells me.

"Why not?"

He sighs and shakes his head. He slips his jacket onto his body and turns his body away from me. He grabs the doorknob and begins to close the door.

"Just do what I ask. Don't go outside."

And with that, he's gone. I walk toward the door and lean my body against the clear wood. I open the door slightly and peek my head outside.

"There he is! Get him!"

Shouts are heard from everywhere. I see bodies hurling towards me. I hurriedly slam the door closed and quickly lock it. Hands pound against the wood. I run over to the windows and make sure everything is locked. I close the blinds and walk into my bedroom. I close the door to my balcony. I peek out of my window and see hundreds of bodies surrounding my house. People try to jump over my high fence, but they just crumble to their knees in defeat. I see signs, dozens of signs, plastered everywhere.

"SNOW KILLED MY CHILD! SNOW MUST DIE!"

"KILL THE SNOW!"

"MURDER!"

I close my window blind and sit down on my bed. My pager beeps and I quickly grab it. I raise it to my lips.

"Max, what is it?" I ask him.

"You wanted destruction, didn't you? Well, look what's going on now."

A loud click on the receiving end signals that he lost connection. I throw the pager to the ground and lay back on my bed. I stare up at the ceiling and sigh with annoyance and frustration. What the heck is going on? Everyone is upset because millions of people died today.

The Hunger Games is only supposed to kill twenty-three teenagers, not thousands. What the heck did Max and I do? What did we cause? Panem, the nation that used to love me and adore me, is now plotting to assassinate me. I can't leave my house. I will be murdered. I can't do anything. What am I going to do with this new problem? What…what the heck is going on?

I close my eyes and sigh loudly. This isn't destruction. This is worse than that. This is something I cannot control now. I created a monster.

"What did I do?"

**A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed. I am posting an updated list of the tributes. I only need three more tributes, and then I can begin the actual story! So, if you would to submit a tribute for the story, please fill out the form found on chapter 1. Thanks! **

Tribute List for "No Happy Ever"

District 1:

M: Marcel Raine

F: Lilium "Lila" Walker

District 2:

M: Joshua Katherson

F: Hunter Hadley

District 3:

M: Lance Bloomer

F:

District 4:

M: Triton Bayer

F: Pearl Pierce

District 5:

M: Russell Tobias

F:

District 6:

M: Jerry Miller

F: Priston Copperton

District 7:

M: Steven Lewis

F: Copeland Rawls

District 8:

M: Farrin O'Haudh

F: Bobbin Petryrs

District 9:

M: Current Harries

F: Quinoa Rheape

District 10:

M: Carmichael Janx

F:

District 11:

M: Gregory Rambottom

F: Cinder Freeman/Pyre

District 12:

M: Paxton Willis/Harley Millar

F: Melissa Daser


	5. Chapter 5: Tribute List

**A/N: Here is the finalized list of the tributes for "No Happy Ever." I will begin the reapings soon after I return from a vacation I am going on. So, here is the list with the ages. Thanks for the submissions! I am excited to begin this story, and I hope you guys are excited to read it. **

**District 1: **

**M: Marcel Raine, 18**

**F: Lilium "Lila" Walker, 17**

**District 2: **

**M: Joshua Katherson, 17**

**F: Hunter Hadley, 16**

**District 3: **

**M: Lance Bloomer, 15**

**F: Ariel Cherry, 18**

**District 4: **

**M: Triton Bayer, 17**

**F: Pearl Pierce, 18**

**District 5: **

**M: Russell Tobias, 17**

**F: Janice Hildebrand, 16**

**District 6: **

**M: Jerry Miller, 14**

**F: Piston Copperton, 14**

**District 7: **

**M: Steven Lewis, 18**

**F: Copeland Rawls, 14**

**District 8: **

**M: Farrin O'Haudh, 16**

**F: Bobbin Petyrs, 12**

**District 9: **

**M: Current Harries, 17**

**F: Quinoa Rheape, 14**

**District 10: **

**M: Carmichael Janx, 14**

**F: Maud Oriole, 16**

**District 11: **

**M: Gregory Rambottom, 14**

**F: Cinder Freeman/Pyre, 17**

**District 12: **

**M: Paxton Willis/Harley Millar, 18 **

**F: Melissa Daser, `13 **

**Well, there's the list! I really tried to make everyone happy with the positions, so if you're not happy, I'm sorry. I look forward to writing this story. I already enjoyed writing the prologues, but now the action is ready to begin! Thanks again for the submissions. May the odds be ever in your favor. **


	6. Chapter 6: District 1

**A/N: Welcome to the District 1 reapings. I hope you enjoy this chapter, for I spent quite a bit of time writing it. I want to make this story special, and I hope you enjoy the characters. Happy reading!**

**District 1 Reapings **

**Marcel Raine **

"If you don't win, don't be surprised if you are disowned from this family, son."

Those are the first words I hear when I wake up on this morning. Not only am I greeted with a full arrangement of buttermilk pancakes loaded with fresh strawberries, warm chocolate chip waffles that are covered in smooth maple syrup, and garlic bread that practically melts in your mouth, but my parents lecture me about how important the Hunger Games is to our family name.

"Dad, you don't have to tell me anymore. I get it," I tell him, hoping to find a way out of this conversation as quickly as possible.

"Son, you come from a family of Hunger Games victors. I won the Games. Your mother won the Games. Your older cousin won the Games two years ago, and all of your aunts and uncles won. So, please, volunteer today. You're eighteen years old. This is your last chance to be in the Games. Do it now or I will never forgive you," he tells me.

Damn, he really tells it like it is, doesn't he? I know I have to compete in the Games this year. It's kind of important that I win because if I don't, no one in my family will ever forgive me. Honestly, I want to compete. I have been waiting for this moment for as long as I have been alive.

Don't think I am going to go down without a fight. I am determined to win. I know I _can _win. I mean, when you live in District 1 and you come from a family of Hunger Games victors, you are pretty much expected to win the Games. If you don't, you appear to be an evil child who doesn't even belong to the family. I'm not going to be like that. I have to win, not just for my family, but for myself.

I know how to fight. I solve pretty much all of my problems with fights. Am I a bully? Well, yeah. Am I proud of it? Well, yeah. I know who I am, and I know that I am always in control of my life and the people who surround me. If people try to get in my way, I will take care of them. I am a child of District 1. This is how all of us are raised and trained as individuals. We are trained to fight. But in the Hunger Games, we are expected to kill, and that is exactly what I'm going to do.

"Do you hear a word I am saying to you, son?" my dad asks me.

I raise my head and look at him. I nod my head and stand up from the kitchen table. I don't have time for this. I know what I have to do, so why should I have to listen to his constant lecturing anymore? I'm through with this. I know I'm going to win. I'm the best guy in the entire nation, so come on. No one can beat me.

"I heard every word, but you don't have to worry about me. I'm going to win. I won't let you guys down. The Raine family will have another victor. I am positive on that," I tell my parents.

I turn around and run upstairs to my bedroom. I walk into the slightly cluttered room and close the door. I quickly change into my blue dress shirt and black slacks. I turn around and gaze at myself in the mirror. Not bad, not bad at all. I'm pretty hot. My long brown hair looks great today, but I run my comb through it just for reassurance. My green eyes pop out with my blue shirt, so yeah, I look pretty stunning today. Aren't I supposed to look this way? I'm always supposed to look my best. Watch out, ladies. I'm coming.

I turn around and walk out of my bedroom. I run downstairs and kiss my mother on the cheek.

"Bye. I love you guys," I tell my parents as I walk over to the front door of our house.

"Remember what I told you! Volunteer or you're dead!" my dad shouts to me from his chair in the kitchen. I roll my eyes and nod my head.

"Yes, Dad! I heard you."

I open the front door and step outside. I see other kids making their way to the district square, preparing for the dreaded reapings. They walk with their friends, hanging onto the last moments they may have with each other before their lives change forever.

I wish I could say I can share those moments with them, but I don't have any friends. Honestly, people don't like me and I don't blame them. I'm too cool for friends. I look out for myself. We live in a dog eat dog world. You really can't trust anyone, so why should I have friends? I'm too good for that. I have myself, and I'm perfectly content with that. Besides, I spend all of my time training for the Hunger Games anyway. When you come from a family of victors, you are expected to be the strongest, bravest person on this planet. Friends just get in the way of that.

As I walk to the district square, I see a girl step out of her house, catching my eye. I know this girl. Lilium Walker, this seventeen girl that I choose not to care about. I've known her forever, but that doesn't mean I know anything about her. She seems smart, but she refuses to let anyone know who she is. Well, I don't care. It's not like I need a friend. I don't want to know people, except the people I kill.

If Lilium goes into the Hunger Games, will I kill her? I know she's from my district, but again, I am Marcel Raine. I don't care about protecting my own tribute partner. I will kill that person too, for I am here to win. And nothing will ever stop me.

Nothing.

**Lilium Walker **

"Can this whole crap party just be over already?" I think to myself as I walk toward the district square.

I really do not want to be here. The Hunger Games is this wicked little invention that President Snow loves and worships, thus creating people who love it even more because they want to be on his good side. Even though I hate the Hunger Games, I don't want to start a rebellion. No, I don't want to do that.

I know I try to be a good girl. I'm not a Career. I don't stick up for those people, but my older sister, Lizzie, was a Career. She was never reaped into the Games, but she never got the chance to volunteer either. She was never the same from those moments because she wanted to be in the Hunger Games. Unlike myself, she knew how to make allies with other Careers and kill people. She used to take me into the woods and train me for battles. She would teach me how to throw knives, and how to handle them properly. Well, it was good work because I am pretty good at it now. I guess you can say it's my strongest quality, but deep down, I know that my mind is stronger than anything I can do with my hands and feet. Yes, I can run pretty quickly and I am decent in close combat fighting. However, I can keep calm in difficult situations, and let's be honest. I have had a lot of practice in that area.

My father died when I was little. I vaguely remember him, but not as much as I would like. Lizzie keeps telling me stories about his laugh and his jokes. I wish I can remember that, but I can only remember his face and how he protected his family.

What makes it worse is that no one knows how my dad died. People just found his body in the woods, dead and already festering with flies. No one knows what happened. It could have been a heart attack, but my father was a thirty-two year old man. He had good health, so I highly doubt he died from something tragic like a heart attack. It could have been an accident, but deep down, I truly believe the Capitol killed him. No one has ever liked our family. Nobody liked my father, so what was the most logical thing to do? Kill my dad.

As I arrive at the district square, I walk over to the long table where we sign in. I fix my simple strapless silver dress. I reach down and smooth the dust off my black flats. I run my hands through my long black hair, stopping myself from pulling it into a sleek ponytail. I touch my eyes, fixing the gold specks that rest below my dark eyes. Someone grabs my hand and pricks my finger for my blood. I wince at the sting, but I quickly shake it off. I turn around and walk over to the girls' section in the square. I spot my friend, Maeve Brannick, standing nearby. I walk up to her and tap her shoulder. She turns around and smiles at me.

"Hey, Lila. You look pretty hot," she tells me. I shake my head and look down at my outfit. That was sweet, but totally not necessarily. Who cares what I look like?

"Thanks, I picked it out just for you," I tell her sarcastically. She rolls her eyes and gazes up at the stage.

"Do you think things are going to be different this year?" she asks me. I shrug my shoulder. How the hell am I supposed to know? Do I work for President Snow? No. I don't really care what happens. I just want it to be over with so I can go back home and chill.

"Don't know, don't care," I mutter.

"Why are you so impossible to talk to?" she asks me.

"Because I don't like to talk, that's why," I snap back at her.

"The Capitol wants District 1 citizens to be people persons, not bipolar girls like you," she tells me.

"So what? I don't really care what the Capitol wants. They killed my father."

"Oh my gosh! Will you give it up about your father? He's been dead practically your whole life! Move on!" she shouts.

I turn to look at her and shake my head. I will never move on from my father's death. Things just don't add up to me about it. My father did not die from natural causes. He was murdered. I just know he was, but I will never have any proof.

"Lila! Maeve! Hey girls! You look flirty and cute today!"

We turn around and find our other two friends, Brennon Maryse and Nate Andrewsons. They walk over to the boys' section of the square. We smile and wave to them.

"Hi, boys! You look handsome!" Maeve shouts to them. I laugh and shake my head.

"Do you always have to act like that?" I ask her. She shrugs her shoulders and turns away from the boys.

"Come on, they're hot and you know it," she replies. I roll my eyes and shake my head.

"Why do you think about stuff like that? You don't want to get in a relationship. It's pointless. You always get hurt in the end," I tell her.

"No, that's just you."

Her words hit me like a brick wall. I can't really deny what she said. I had one serious relationship last year. I was sixteen. I was young and I thought I knew what love was. Then the idiot broke up with me on my seventeenth birthday, telling me it was my fault. I was hurt. Can you really blame me? I thought I was in love, but I learned my lesson. Falling in love only makes you vulnerable, so I promise myself that I will never do that again. I intend to keep that promise.

The district escort, Kellicks, walks across the stage to the microphone. Maeve reaches down and grabs my hand, but I just quickly brush it away. She knows I don't like affection.

"Hey, District 1. How's everyone doing today?" he asks the crowd. Some people mutter responses, but most of the kids remain silent. Stop the small talk and choose the tributes already. That's all we care about.

"Tough crowd, I can see," he says while laughing. "President Snow recorded a video last week that he would like to share at all of the reapings. So, please, turn your attention to the screen and watch your amazing Panem president."

The screen flickers to life and President Snow's devilish face appears on the screen. He smiles into the camera, but I know it's fake. I never trusted that guy, and I'm not about to start now.

"Welcome to the 80th Hunger Games, my faithful nation. I am so excited for this year's festivities to begin, and I hope you are too! I know the twenty-four tributes will represent their nation properly in the Games. Now, this year, things are going to be different. I'm not going to give too much away, but you won't be expecting anything this year. Nothing is the same, and that's the way I like it. So, let's get this show started. And I mean that. It will be a show, a very good show to watch and observe. So, good luck to you all. May the odds be ever in your favor."

The screen fades to black and I turn to look at Maeve. She stares at me and nods her head.

"I told you things were going to be different," she whispers. I roll my eyes and stare forward at the stage. What the heck is going to happen?

"As you can see, things are going to be different this year," Kellicks tells us as his eyes wander around the square. "Look to the left and right of my body on the stage. As you can see, two things are missing. Usually, at the reapings, two glass bowls are placed on the stage, each containing the names of every teen in the district. As you can see, the stage is empty. What could that possibly mean?"

Maeve grabs my hand and clings onto it. I push her away, but she just grabs it again.

"President Snow wants things to be different this year. He wants the Hunger Games to be remembered and haunting. So, let's begin the new reapings," Kellicks says. He leans down and presses a finger to his ear. He nods his head quickly.

"Yes, Max," he mutters into the microphone. "We will begin."

He looks out at us and smiles. No one is smiling back at him. What the heck is going on? What is going to happen to us?

"Gentlemen, let's begin the real show."

Suddenly, men in white suits begin pushing everybody into a small circle, our bodies being pressed up against each other. Girls begin to scream and the guys reach out to help the girls find space, but nothing can be done. We get pushed tighter and tighter until there is nowhere we can hide.

"FIRE AWAY!"

Blasts burst through the square as bombs erupt around us. People scream as their friends get ripped apart from them, dragged away into sheds where they are shot. More bombs burst around us as people die from the impacts. Boys try to help the girls find shelter from the sudden war zone, but they are just grabbed and shot in the face for helping the girls. Girls scream as men grab their bodies and blast bombs onto them, exploding their bodies into the air.

Maeve clings to my body as I try to make sense of what is going on. What the heck? Why are they killing everybody? This isn't how things are supposed to go.

More people are slain in front of my eyes. I gaze around the square, and I see parents clinging to each other as they watch their babies die in front of their very eyes. I look around and find Nate and Brennon crawling on their hands and knees. Their clothes are torn and blood covers their bodies.

"Nate! Brennon!" Maeve shouts.

She starts to run after them, but I grab her arm. She can't help them! They're already dying. Nothing can be done to save them now.

"Maeve! Stop it! It's too late!" I shout into her face. She slaps my arm and turns to the boys.

"That's what you think!" she shouts.

She runs toward them, but before she reaches them, a man grabs her by the waist and slices her throat. Her screams fill the air and I close my eyes so I don't have to watch her death. Maeve, probably the best friend I have ever had in my life, the one person who accepts my sweet but sarcastic behavior, is now dead. I tried to stop her, but Maeve could never be stopped.

I turn around and find myself face-to-face with Marcel Raine. I don't know this guy, but I know I don't like him. He's a bully at school. He skips school all the time to "train for the Hunger Games." He lives in a snobby family where they think they are better than everyone else in the district because they are victors. So, why am I still standing in front of him, staring into his eyes?

His lips start moving, but I can't understand what he's saying because screams fill the air around me. I turn my head and find several teens being shot in the face, bombs bursting in the air and people being crushed by rocks. Clothing covered in blood are scattered across the ground. Bodies lay everywhere. The guards are still killing people, but there is only about twenty kids left. What is their plan? Am I going to die next?

"Get out of my way!" Marcel shouts into my face.

But before I can move away from him, two guards run over to us. They grab our bodies and push us together. My body is pressed closely against Marcel, and he looks down and smirks.

"I've never been this close to a lady before. I kind of like it," he whispers. I roll my eyes and shake my head. No, don't even blush. He's not even cute. Besides, Marcel Raine would hurt me worse than every other guy in the district. He's the worse guy here, so why the hell is he still alive?

The guards wrap a rope around us and tie us together. We are pulled forward, onto the stage. I trip on the stairs and we both fall down. Marcel kicks my shin and I punch his groin. He moans in pain at the impact, but I just laugh. I thought he was tough. I guess not.

The guards push us to our feet and we stand up. We are pushed toward Kellicks, who grabs our bodies and smiles.

"We've got you now!" he shouts into our faces. I look up at Marcel and he shrugs his shoulders.

"Don't look at me. I don't know what's going on either," he whispers to me.

Kellicks whistles into the air and the guards stop moving. They turn to the stage and watch Kellicks's every move.

"Stop, fellows. Stop the destruction. We've got our tributes," Kellicks announces.

I look out at the crowd, and find only fifteen teens are left remaining. They stare at us and I find them crying. I look out and see Nate staring up at me, but Brennan and Maeve are nowhere to be seen. Where did they take all of the dead bodies? Nothing is in sight.

I stare at the families and find them staring at Kellicks and the guards with hatred and remorse. They turn to each other and they start talking, like they are about to plan something huge. Whatever it is, I know I will never find out because right after this moment, I have to hop on a train and travel to some unknown land where I will have to fight for my life.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the remaining teens of the district, and President Snow, we have selected your tributes for District 1. Why don't you say your names?" Kellicks asks us as he turns away from the microphone.

"Aren't you going to ask for volunteers?" I ask him. He smiles and shakes his head.

"There aren't any volunteers this year. New rules, new Hunger Games," he tells us. He moves aside and pushes us toward the microphone. I am still bound to Marcel, which I hate.

"Marcel Raine, age 18," Marcel speaks clearly in the microphone, as if he has waited for this moment his entire life. Coming from his family, I guess he kind of has been ready for the Hunger Games. I, on the other hand, never dreamed I would actually enter this vicious spectacle the Games invented.

"Lilium Walker, age 17," I whisper into the microphone.

We step back and look at Kellicks. He smiles and motions for us to walk off the stage. Two bguards lift our bodies and hurl us to the ground. We gasp and look up at them. Kellicks finishes his speech to the crowd, but nobody is listening. The parents are already planning their revolt. A revolt against what, I will never know, but I know it will be a bloody revolution.

Kellicks walks off the stage and smiles down at us. He leans down and taps our knees.

"Congratulations. You survived the reapings. Everything else should be a piece of cake from here on out," he tells us.

He stands up, brushes his pants off and walks away from us. I turn to Marcel and I am amused to find him sharing the same expression I have on my face.

What the hell just happened?

**A/N: Thank you for reading. I appreciate the support. Please review and give me feedback. Constructive criticism is appreciated, so give me what you got! Also, I am beginning to include pictures of the tributes on my profile page. I have Marcel and Lila up now, so go check that out and tell me what you think. Thanks again. I will try to upload District 2 as soon as possible. **

**As always, **

**Fiddlegirl **


	7. Chapter 7: District 2

**District 2 Reapings **

**Hunter Hadley**

"Lift the sword a little higher up into the air."

I tilt my head toward my father, the one instructing me during this training, and nod my head in understanding. I raise my sword higher up into the air, squinting my eyes to avoid the sunlight's penetration into my retina. Then, my father guides my hand downward, right where I would attack my enemy, mostly stabbing him or her in the throat.

"That's how you do it, buttercup," he whispers softly.

I step back and showcase my winning smile, but as I stare at my father, I am quite aware of the fact that I have to win this year's Hunger Games. My mother and father both won the Games. It's how they met. He was her mentor. He was a great mentor, which is why he trains me so well. Unfortunately, when my brother, Cato, died, my father has never been the same. He quit being a mentor and he presumed to taking care of his family, like any father should.

He became distant and he doesn't really pay attention to who _we _are. We are his students. We must win the Hunger Games.

"_Cato would have wanted us," he always says. _

Do I really believe that my brother would want me to enter the Hunger Games? I was ten years old when he died. He was six years older than me, but he was my best friend. He was always there for me. No one has replaced him since his death, and I highly doubt anyone ever will. He taught me so many things, like how to be a nice person on the outside, but a vicious fighter in battle. I do everything for Cato. He is my hero, and I will always be his baby sister.

My other brothers, eh, they aren't much to talk about. They are Hunger Games victors, except for Caius. They treat me like crap, so I treat them like crap. It's a two way street in the Hadley house, if you have not already made that assumption.

"Dad, I need to go to the reapings now," I tell my father.

He looks down at me and nods his head. He gathers our training equipment and shakes his head, looking off into the distance as if he is in deep thought. I wave a finger in front of his face, but he doesn't move.

"Dad?"

"You're going to be reaped," he mutters.

"I know. I'm okay with that though. I know what I have to do and I'm ready to fight. I'm not scared of the Hunger Games, unlike everybody else in this world. I'm not afraid because you taught me never to show my fear to anyone. I don't hate the Games. I want to be vicious," I tell him.

He turns to me and smiles. It's very rare that I can get my father to smile, but when he does, it's magical. I know I may sound arrogant and cocky, but I'm not. I'm determined to win and I won't let anyone break into my shell. It won't happy. At least, not on my watch.

"Do you remember what I always told you?" he asks me. I nod my head and smile.

"Kill District 12 first, and everything else will fall into place," I reply.

He smiles and taps my nose with his finger.

"That's right, buttercup."

**Joshua Katherson **

You have got to be kidding me.

That's the first thought that enters my mind as I wake up this morning. No "good morning" or "ahh…it's a beautiful day." Nope, none of that bull shit. It's not a good morning and it's certainly not a beautiful day. If anyone thinks it is, please, let me find them so I can put a bullet down their throat.

I used to think happy thoughts. I used to be a pretty okay person, but when you're in my shoes, things are never easy. I've been in a stupid orphanage all my life because somebody decided to go and kill my parents for no good reason. They just wanted to kill them, so what do I want to do? I want to kill them in return. You take my parents, I'll take your life. Does that sound okay? It sounds brilliant to me.

As I prepare for the Hunger Games, I think about my duties in life. If I get reaped, I don't really care. I don't have any family members. I don't have any friends, except for Greta. I know I can fight. I was raised in an orphanage ever since I was two years old, and this wasn't a very typical place to live. They taught children to fight. In the beginning, I thought it was unnecessary and stupid. I realize now that it helped me so much.

I know I may not win the Hunger Games, but you never know. Anything can happen. If I learned one thing growing up, it is that life is never easy, and it can change when you least expect it.

Quickly dressing, not really caring what I wear to this stupid show, I walk out of the orphanage and make my way toward the district square. I see thousands of kids walking to their doom. I mean, the reapings.

I walk up to the check-in table and a lady pricks my finger for my blood. She looks down at her chart.

"305," she mutters to herself.

"What is that?" I ask her.

She quickly glances up at me and cocks her head to the side.

"Move it, kid."

"What is that number?" I ask her again, my voice rising with my temper.

"I told you to move it. Step aside. I don't have all day."

I raise my hands into the air and nod my head.

"Whatever you say, madam," I tell her as I step away from the table.

I turn around and walk over to the boys' waiting area of the district. I stop in my footsteps when I hear someone squeal my name from the distance. I smile and turn around to find Greta racing towards me. She wraps her arms around my neck and hugs my tightly.

"How you doin'?" she asks me.

"Not too bad. Just ready for this day to get over with, you know," I tell her.

"I hear that Hunter Hadley is going to be the girl tribute this year," she says.

"Who?"

That name sounds oddly familiar, but I can't recall who it is. I definitely know the Hadleys. Who doesn't? The famous Hadley family in District 2! The parents won the Hunger Games. Each child won, except for Hunter and Caius. It's Hunter's turn to become another Hadley victor. If she doesn't, gosh, her father will never forgive her.

"She's right over there," Greta says, pointing to the direction of the girls' waiting area.

I turn my head to find a girl with dirty blond wavy hair talking to her friends. I glance down her body, seeing her low purple v-neck dress that flows to her knees. Her tan skin and nice body definitely makes me feel things that I haven't felt in years. I gulp and shake my head to erase these thoughts from my mind.

"Joshua, I told you to look at her, not check her out," Greta tells me. I smile and nod my head. Oh yes, I forgot how Greta has a major crush on me. I'll never act on it, but it's always nice to know.

"So, she's going in, huh?" I ask her.

"That's the gossip."

"And you believe that trash?" I ask her.

"Always will, my friend."

I turn my attention to the stage and notice our district escort, Moses, walk toward the microphone. I nudge Greta's shoulder and tell her to get to her own side of the square. I nod my head and stand as straight as my bones will allow.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, I want to be the first person to welcome you to this year's Hunger Games season. I love this time of the year. It's always festive and exhilarating. I know everyone is eager to begin the reapings, but first, I want to show this video of a message brought to you from the Capitol. It's a message from President Snow. Isn't that exciting? Let's turn our attention to the screen," Moses tells us.

I turn my head toward the screen, but every time I see that wicked old beast's face, I feel vicious and insane. I want to kill him. I feel like he had something to do with the murder of my parents. Nothing can be proven, but he has ruined the lives of so many people. Why can't his life be ruined as well?

That is the question. And unfortunately, that question will never be answered.

**Hunter Hadley **

As I stand and watch President Snow's video, I can't help but glance over at the stage. I watch my mother and older brothers, Hadley and Syliss, sit on the stage as mentors. My mother glances at me and I know she is scared for my safety. I am her only daughter. She wants me to be safe, but at the same time, I was raised to be a Hunger Games victor. I was raised to win.

What if I am reaped? They will be my mentors. My brothers will torture me ruthlessly. They never really care about me. They want me to win for the family, but they'll probably help the guy more. I'm just a girl. Why do I need help?

"Let's get back to the reason we are here: the reapings!" Moses shouts into the microphone.

A few people cheer, but the crowd is mostly silent from fright of what is about to happen to two people in the district.

"Gentlemen, let's begin the new reapings," Moses announces.

The new reapings? What the heck does he mean by that? Everything is always tradition. We draw names out of a glass bowl. It's as easy as pie. What are they going to do this year?

"STAND TALL!" voices shout from behind us.

I turn my head and find fifty guards marching toward us. What the hell? They keep marching until they are standing right in front of us.

A guard marches over and grabs a boy who must be twelve years old from the ground. He lifts him high into the air. I hear his mother shout because she realizes that her little baby boy is going into the Hunger Games. Let's be honest. He won't win.

"YOU ARE THE CHOSEN ONE!" the guard shouts into his face.

"I don't want to die!" the young boy cries out, trying to be brave, but it really isn't working.

The guard leans down and whispers into the boy's ear. The boy's face instantly turns white as snow, not believing the words he just heard.

"NO! I CAN'T DO IT!" he shouts.

"YOU WILL DO IT OR ELSE!" the guard shouts, twisting the boy's neck a little to the side.

"These are my friends!"

"FRIENDS ARE FOR HISSIES! NOW DO IT!" the guard shouts again, dropping the boy to the ground.

The boy turns and looks at us. He looks at a group of boys, probably his friends, and shakes his head. He then walks over and kisses a girl on the lips, his sweetheart girl.

"I'm so sorry, everybody," he tells us as he turns and walks toward the group of guards.

What the hell is going on? Wasn't he reaped? Why is he joining the guards?

Suddenly, I see him pick up a gun and turn around to face us. Oh…no…he can't…is he going to shoot us? Start shooting everybody he hates and everybody he loves? The two people left are…the chosen ones. What the hell?

I close my eyes as I begin to hear the gunshots explode around me. Then I hear the screams, the horror of dying, the parents collapsing with pain at the sight of their children dying in front of them. I don't want to see this. I know I like to fight. I know I like to win the Hunger Games and I know I'm not the best person in the world, but when it comes to my own district, I love everybody. I may not talk to everyone because of my own insincerities and trust issues, but I don't want every teenager to be killed. It shouldn't happen this way.

The boy continues to shoot people, his girlfriend and his best buddies. I know it's not his fault. He was forced to do this. He was forced to become a monster.

After about ten minutes of fired shots, I decide to open my eyes. I look around the district square, and I am shocked to find it empty. The dead bodies are already gone. Blood is splattered everywhere, but I expected that. Only four people remaining. The boy has to shoot two more people. Now, who is it going to be?

I look over at the other girl standing near me. She's probably thirteen years old. She's shaking and trembling. I look over at the boy and cock my head toward the girl. I wink my eye and nod my head. He stares at me, as if he understands. He turns his body and shoots the girl in the chest, killing her instantly. Her body is dragged away by another guard, to a place I don't even want to think about.

I turn to look at my mother and brothers. They stare at me and I see my brothers smiling with pride. Another Hadley sibling is going to win the Hunger Games. Yeah, well, I desperately hope so.

One more gunshot explodes around me. I turn and stare straight ahead at my district partner. Joshua Katherson? How the hell did he make it out of this alive? He couldn't even save his own parents from death. How can he save himself?

I step towards him and he nods his head in my direction.

"Hunter," he says.

"Joshua," I reply.

He stares down at me, as if he is reading my mind. I stare straight back into his eyes, knowing that I will never be underestimated by anyone. I hope he knows that.

"Welcome to the Hunger Games," he whispers. I smile and nod my head.

"May the best person win."

**A/N: I know it's different than District 1, but I plan to make things different for each district. Thanks for waiting. I've been busy, and I'm on vacation right now, so I will try to update as quickly as I can. Thanks. The District 2 pictures are posted on my profile, so check those out as well. Thanks!**

**As always,**

**Fiddlegirl **


	8. Chapter 8: District 3

**District 3 **

**Lance Bloomer **

Dear Loser,

Hey, today is the first day of the Hunger Games. The reapings are always a dreadful event, but it might actually be pretty enjoyable if you are reaped. I'd like to see you get hurt. You deserve it too. What do you have to live for? Nothing, that's what I say.

Oh, could you tell your sisters I say hey? Especially Bailey. She's getting hot, if I do say so myself. Oh, does that bother you? I'm sorry. I just can't help it. I'd like to do stuff to her. Oh wait, maybe I already have? I can't remember.

Have a nice life, geek. I hope you get reaped. The district would be a much better place without you here.

Ta-ta,

Anonymous (None of your business who this is, dork)

As I stare at the letter in my hands, I feel my blood boiling inside of my body from anger. I expect these notes to arrive at my doorstep. I know people bully me and say things behind my back. Having a speech impediment, I know that I'm different from everyone else. I know people don't like me. I want friends, but they don't want me. It's the story of my life, and no matter what I do, it never changes.

The one thing I won't tolerate is the insults against my sisters. I love my sisters more than anybody in the world. I would die for them, and I mean that. As their older brother, it is my job to protect them against any harm, even if it means bullies who can totally beat me up. I know how to fight back. Sure, when the insults are directed towards me, I don't fight back. When someone bullies my sisters, I will do anything to that person.

"Bailey?" I call out into our house.

My fourteen year old sister barrels down the stairs and smiles. She waves and walks toward me.

"What's up, bro?" she asks me, acting nonchalant. That's how Bailey behaves. She is funny and sarcastic, but it often lands her in trouble. I just hope she doesn't get reaped into the Hunger Games. Her attitude would be a major threat.

"Are…are you doing any..anything with b-boys?" I ask her, trying to ignore my speech impediment, but as I speak, I mentally shoot myself in the stomach. God, I loathe myself.

"What do you mean? Sex?" she asks.

"Bailey, I'm your br-brother. I dun't need to know…about th-that," I tell her. It's true. I don't want to think about my sister ever having sex with anyone, let alone at fourteen years old.

"It's none of your business what I do during my free time, but just to calm you down, no. I'm still a virgin," she says.

I sigh with relief and smile with pride. See, I knew my sister was still the little princess I know and love. I just had to dig around and find her.

She reaches out and snatches the letter from my hand. She gazes down at it and I try to grab it from her hands, but she's too fast for me. She turns around and continues to read the words on the page. I watch her face as she reads, noticing if she ever appears hurt of confused.

As she finishes reading, she glances up at me and shakes her head. She crumbles the page into a ball and tosses it into the trashcan.

"Who wrote this?" she asks me. I shrug my shoulders. How am I supposed to know? "You can't let people bully you anymore, Lance. It's not right. You're a good person. You're the best brother anyone could ever ask for. Don't they see that?"

"No," I simply answer. Nobody ever sees anything. "I-I want to kill them."

"You don't mean that. Just because he said something about me doesn't mean you have to become violent. You already steal things for us. You steal things and fix things for us, and it's too much. I know you want to protect our family. I know you want to be a good person for me and the others. Grace and Lily love you. We all do. I just wish everyone else thought that too," she tells me.

I shrug my shoulders and turn around. It's pointless to stand up to the bullies. They will never change. Even if my speech problem disappears and I become "normal," I will still be bullied. I'll still be a weirdo. Nothing ever changes in life. Even if I won the Hunger Games, it wouldn't matter. People would still hate me. At least, I think they would.

"Well, if you're not going to say anything about it, I'm not going to waste my time talking about it to you. It's time to go to the reapings. Are you dressed?" she asks.

I look down at my grey shirt and black pants. I shrug my shoulder and nod my head. Why should I care what I look like? I'll still look ugly.

"It's fine. Let's go," I tell her.

I open the front door of our house and step aside for her to walk out. She stares at me and smiles.

"You really are the best brother a girl could ask for," she says. I smile and blush. I nod my head and motion for her to step outside.

"I know."

**Ariel Cherry (Cherry) **

Running away from home, I keep my eyes focused and my mind wide open. I look around, making sure no one is following me. I have to get out of here. I have to find a way to safety, for I just did the one thing that will get me killed.

I just killed a man.

I don't like to think I am a killer. I tried to defend myself. You see, it wasn't my fault. He was trying to rape me against my will. He wanted to sleep with me, but I just don't want that with anyone. Especially him. He is an old man who just wants to sleep with a girl my age to make himself feel "good."

It's a long history that is very complicated. My mother committed suicide when I was two years old. I don't really remember much of her life. How can I when nobody talks about her? My father never remarried, but he isn't a very pleasant guy. He never hurts me, but his silence hurts more than a beating ever could.

When my mother died, it didn't take long before someone came in to help take care of my siblings. She wasn't the most pleasant lady. Clara treated us horribly. Whenever we wanted to eat something after dinnertime, she would beat us. She locked the cupboards so we wouldn't sneak in a snack. I wish I had a better childhood, but that wasn't even the worse of it.

Day was Clara's husband. From the moment he came in, he had his eye on me. As I grew older, he started doing more things than just look at me. He would touch me and try to take advantage of me. No matter what I did, he refused to stop. I tried to tell my father about Day, but he just ignored me. I tried to tell my other siblings, but they also ignored my warnings about Day. No one ever believes me. No one ever cares about me. I just want out of this family. Maybe that's why I desperately want to be in the Hunger Games. I would live on my own and I can fight. I've been fighting against Day all of my life. I can do anything now.

As I keep running, the past day's events run through my mind. I remember Day corning me in the shed outside my house. He touched me in areas that he never touched me before. I squirmed and tried to break free from his tight grasp, but he was relentless. He was going to be victorious, but I refused to submit to him. No, I was going to fight. I strongly believe my mother would want me to behave that way.

I close my eyes and I see myself beating Day and stabbing him in the chest with a knife. I remember the blood on my hands as I stared at his dead body. I remember glancing up and seeing my father stand in the doorway, just staring at the scene he just witnessed. I looked at him and shook my head. I told him it wasn't what it looked like, but he remained silent. He turned around and told me he was going to tell the Peacekeepers about the murder.

That's when I knew it was time for me to run away. I don't want to die. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was just protecting my life. I didn't want Day to rape me, so didn't I do the right thing?

I run to the district square. Today is Reaping Day for the Hunger Games. I so desperately want to be in the Games. I need this to work out. It's the only way I can escape. I may die, but I don't care. I need to get out of here as quickly as possible, and the Hunger Games may be my ticket to freedom.

I arrive at the district square and I walk over to the check-in table. I gaze down at my plaid dress and notice that it's torn at the ends from Day. He tore my dress, the dress that belonged to my mother. He tore it because he wanted to take it off my body, but I refused.

"Name please," one of the ladies asks me.

"Ariel Cherry," I respond.

"Age?"

"Eighteen," I answer.

She pricks my finger for my blood and pushes me away from the table. I turn around and bump into Kevin, the one boy who actually cares about me. I guess I have a crush on him, but right now, I don't even want to think about boys. Day just wanted sex from me. He is a middle-aged old man. What could boys my own age possibly want from me?

"Cherry, you look so…bad," he tells me.

"Thanks. That's what every girl wants to hear," I say.

"That's not what I meant. You just don't look good. Are you okay?" he asks me, placing his hand on my shoulder. I shake my head but shrug my shoulders.

"I'm fine," I tell him.

"Are you sure?" he asks. I stare into his eyes and I can see that he genuinely cares about me.

"I'm fine."

I turn around and quickly walk away from him. I can't deal with this right now. I just want the reapings to begin before I am thrown into prison for murder. Is that too much to ask?

**Lance Bloomer **

As I stand in the boys' section of the reapings, I turn my head to look at Bailey. I see that she is talking to her close friends and I smile. At least she is having fun. I wish I had friends to talk with like she does. It would make life so much better and easier to live.

"Hello, hello! Welcome to the 80th Hunger Games. I hope everyone enjoyed their year and I am even more hopeful that everyone is excited for this year's season. I know I am. Things are different this year, but I assume everyone thought that. President Snow wants everyone to know that revolts are not tolerated in this nation. That's why this year's Hunger Games are going to be different than any other seasons in the past," our district escort, Izzabelle tells the district through the microphone.

As she speaks, I kind of zone out and think about my own feelings. If I go into the Hunger Games, it will be just like home. The only difference is that I will be allowed to kill the people who bully and interrogate others, but I can also hurt the ones who bully me. It will be great.

"Will Amanda Jenkins please come up to the stage?" Izzabelle asks the crowd.

I turn my head and look at the girls' section of the square. Nobody moves. What the heck is going on? She just said your name, Amanda. Get on up to the stage before something else happens to us.

Out of nowhere, I hear commotion behind me. I turn my head and see two guards carrying a woman down the center aisle. It's a mother. What the heck do they want with the parents?

As the woman is pushed onto the stage, Izzabelle grabs her hand and helps her stand up.

"Are you okay?" she asks her.

"Uh, yes. What do you want with me?" Amanda asks the district's escort.

"Tell me your child's name," Izzabelle orders.

"What do you want to do with my son?" Amanda asks.

"Just tell me his name."

"Scotty Jenkins, age fourteen," Amanda says, while glancing out into the crowd, probably staring at her son. Izzabelle smiles and turns toward the crowd.

"Guards, get Scotty please," she orders through the microphone.

The guards walk down the aisle and drag Scotty toward the stage. What the heck is Izzabelle going to do to this family? First, she drags his poor mother onto the stage and demands her to announce her son's name, but now she is going to do something to both of them.

"What do you want from us?" Amanda asks Izzabelle.

"I'm not asking anything from you, Amanda. I'm asking your son to do something," Izzabelle replies.

"What do you want me to do?" Scotty asks her.

Izzabelle turns and looks at Scotty. She smiles and lays her hand on his shoulder. She stares into his eyes and from my direction, she whispers something. I'm not sure exactly what she said, but it was something along the lines of "I'm sorry."

Sorry for what? What can she be sorry for? She decided to be an escort. She is the person who is going to punish two teenagers in our district by forcing them into the Hunger Games. What can she possibly be sorry about? She doesn't have a heart. She's cold and cruel. Why is she being so nice to Scotty?

She quickly turns around and looks at us. Her eyes pan around the district square, searching for our eyes. She shakes her head and looks down at her feet. I look at her hands and see that they are trembling. Trembling from what, I'm not sure. All I know is that what is about to happen will not be very pleasant.

"Gentlemen, proceed with the mission," she says into the microphone.

Guards start walking toward Scotty and his mother. They grab Amanda and pull her away from her child's arms. She screams and tries to grab onto Scotty, but the guards just punch her in the face. Why are they doing this? What did she do that was so wrong? All she did was raise her son. She did the right thing. She was a mother. How can you ever punish a loving mother?

The guards walk over to Scotty and place a rifle in his hands. He stares down at it as if he never held one of these weapons before in his life. He glances up at Izzabelle and again, she whispers that she is sorry for what is about to happen. I stare at Scotty and then a light bulb flickers in my mind. Scotty is holding a gun, and his mother is being held up by the guards. That can only mean one thing.

Scotty has to kill his mother.

"Scotty, this is not an order from me. This is an order from President Snow," Izzabelle tells him.

"What does he want me to do?" he asks her.

"Kill your mother."

Scotty snaps his head up and looks at her. He stares into her eyes and quickly shakes his head. He throws the rifle to the ground and begins to run off the stage, but a guard grabs him and pushes him toward Izzabelle.

"I can't do it! I won't do it!" he screams.

"I don't want you to do it either, Scotty, but it's not up to me. President Snow orders you to do this," Izzabelle tells him, hoping to persuade him to believe that she is a good person. She doesn't want an innocent mother to die. No, that can only be the idea of heartless President Snow.

"I don't give a fuck what President Snow wants me to do!" Scotty shouts.

"Scotty, you have to do it."

"No! Make me then!" he shouts.

A guard leans down and picks up the rifle. He stares at Scotty before thrusting it in his hands.

"Kill your Ma, son," the guard tells him.

"You can't make me pull the trigger. I'm not killing my mom," Scotty says.

"Fine, I didn't want to be like this," the guard responds.

He walks over and pushes Scotty to the ground. He kicks Scotty in the ribs, too hard for comfort. He whistles loudly and a group of hungry pit bulls storm into the district. Girls begin to scream because these dogs are trained to attack. However, the dogs don't run near us. They run toward the edge of the stage, scrapping against the metal. Their barks howl throughout the district.

The guard kicks Scotty again, causing him to fall off the stage toward his death. I close my eyes and wince when I hear Scotty's screams as he is torn apart, flesh by flesh, by the vicious animals. I open my eyes and turn my head to the boy standing next to me. He turns his head and shakes his head.

This is sick.

Izzabelle covers her mouth with her hands at the sight before her. She shakes her head and turns to look at Amanda, who is slouched over in pain. She just witnessed the death of her beloved son, but she knows that it isn't over yet. Nothing is ever over.

The guard turns and looks at her.

"Did you like seeing that? Your son just died. How does that make you feel?" he asks her.

"My son is dead. How do you think I feel?"

"That's what I thought you would say. Now, here's what is going to happen. Izzy is going to pick another person. That individual is going to come up to the stage and shoot you in the face. If they refuse to do that, well, the dogs will get another treat. If we have to do this one hundred times, so be it. We'll do it until you're dead. Do I make myself clear?"

"Why do you want to kill me? What did I do that was so wrong?" she asks him.

He turns to look at Izzabelle and smiles. She turns around and looks at Amanda. She shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head.

"We know you murdered Day Phillips today," Izzabelle announces into the microphone.

A gasp is heard from the girls' side of the square. I turn my head to see a girl with red hair shaking her head violently. Her plaid dress is torn at the ends and she looks like she just suffered a painful fall. What is her problem?

"I didn't murder anybody, especially Day Phillips," Amanda says.

"Oh yes, you did. We heard about it," the guard responds.

"From whom?"

"Does it really matter? Now shut up. If you didn't kill him, who did?"

He turns around and walks over to Izzabelle. He grabs her face and whispers into her ear. She quickly nods her head and pushes him away from her. She turns to look at us. She straightens her dress and I see her chest moving up and down rapidly from her quick breathing.

"We need someone else to come up here. Will Bailey Bloomer please come up to the stage?" Izzabelle announces.

No. She did not just say Bailey Bloomer. My sister is not walking up to the stage right now. I stare at her and shake my head. No, this isn't happening. What can I do to save her? I'm her brother. I have to do something, don't I? Yes, of course I do.

"Bailey, you know the drill. Either kill Amanda Jenkins or get eaten alive by pit bulls. Take your pick," the guard tells her.

"I don't want to kill anybody. I know Amanda. She is a good mother. She was amazing to Scotty. I don't want to kill her," Bailey says.

No! No! No! Bailey, gosh dang it! Do what he says! If you don't stop running your mouth, you will get killed! I can't let that happen. I have to do something. I have to save my little sister. As the older brother, that is my duty in the family.

"She is a bad person," the guard tells her.

"You're one to talk! You're the worse one here!" Bailey shouts.

Bailey, stop it! Just do what he wants and save yourself. Please!

"If you kill her, you'll go into the Hunger Games. You will prove that you can do anything under pressure," he tells her.

"Then I guess I can't do anything under pressure, now can I? You've proved your point. I'm pointless. Kill me then. I'm not killing an innocent woman because some jackass wants me to do it," she replies.

No, I can't let Bailey die. She is my best friend. I love her to death. How can I fix this? What can I do to save my sister?

"STOP! STOP IT! I VOLUNTEER! STOP IT! PLEASE!" a voice shouts from the crowd.

I turn my head to see the redhead girl scrambling to reach the center aisle. Her arms flail around her and she continues to shout at the top of her lungs.

"I VOLUNTEER! PLEASE DON'T KILL THAT WOMAN! SHE'S INNOCENT!" she shouts.

"How do you know?" Izzabelle asks her.

"SHE DIDN'T KILL DAY! I DID!" she shouts.

Everyone in the crowd gasps. I look at the girl and I wonder why she killed a man. I don't know Day, but I have heard some interesting stories about him. I'm not sure if the stories are true, but it doesn't matter. This poor girl has a reason to volunteer, so let her. At least it won't be my sister going into the Hunger Games.

**Ariel Cherry **

I don't know why I did this. I don't why I volunteered, but once I opened my mouth, I couldn't stop screaming. I couldn't let an innocent mother die because of something I did to Day Phillips. She didn't do it. If anyone should die, it should be me. But I'm going to fight. I want to go into the Hunger Games because it will be a way to escape this place. I may die, and I hope I do, but at least I won't be killed here.

"Uhh…I'm sorry. Did you say you want to volunteer?" Izzabelle asks me.

I walk toward the stage and climb up the steps. I nod my head and walk over to her. I l know what I said and I have to stand my ground for this. I don't want anyone to die because of what I did. It's not right.

"I have to. Amanda Jenkins should not die for something I did. So, please, let me go into the Hunger Games," I say.

"How about we have people come up and kill you, and if they don't, they will be killed," the guard announces. I turn my head to look at him. Enough already!

"No, I don't want that to happen. I don't want people to die. If you want me to die, then send me into the Hunger Games. I'll die there. Just stop killing innocent people. It's not right," I tell them.

Izzabelle smiles and nods her head. I actually like this woman. She seems to care about us. Why is she an escort? Why did she decide to assist people toward their inevitable deaths?

"I'm sorry. I can't allow you to volunteer. President Snow doesn't want any volunteers this year. He made that quite clear," she tells me.

"I don't care what he says. I don't think you care either. You see, I'm not a bad person. I'm not. I killed a man to protect myself. If that makes me a bad person, then I'll die. I'll accept my fate and go to Hell. But if I'm not a bad person, then give me a chance to prove that to you. Let me compete in the Hunger Games. It's all I ask," I tell her.

She stares at me for the longest time before glancing over to the crowd before her. She nods her head and smiles. She extends her hands and invites me with a warm hug. She believed me? No one has ever believed my stories before.

"Wait a minute! It doesn't end like this! President Snow wants major destruction at the reapings. This isn't destruction, Izzy. This is pathetic," the guard says.

He marches over to me and picks me up from the ground. I scream and try to kick him in the chest. He dangles me over the pack of pit bulls. I continue to scream at the top of my lungs. No, please don't do this! I would rather die in the Hunger Games than be shred into a thousand pieces by hungry pit bulls.

"Darren! Stop it!" Izzabelle shouts. She runs over and punches his arms, but he just pushes her to the ground. She quickly stands up and continues to beat him.

"Let her go! I am the district escort and I say that she is going into the Hunger Games!" she shouts.

The guard turns around and tosses me to the stage floor. Bailey leans down and pats my back.

"Are you okay?" she asks me. I gaze into her eyes and nod my head. I'm always fine.

I turn my head and see Darren lift Izzabelle up from the ground. He places his hand over her throat and whispers something into her ear. She begins to squirm and tries to fight back. She kicks him in the crotch, but he is relentless. He walks over to the stage's edge and I see the humorous gaze in his eye. He is enjoying this torture.

He tosses Izzabelle down into the pile of pit bulls. I hear her screams as she is killed by the dogs. I shout her name, feeling saddened by the fact that the woman who accepted my story is now killed before my eye.

If she died, who is going to be our escort? Who is going to help us?

Darren turns around and marches over to the microphone.

"I am the new district escort! If this young woman wants to go into the Hunger Games, fine. She can go in, but I will make sure she doesn't win. She deserves to die. Now, as for her district partner, well, I have my plans for that," he tells the district.

He turns around and motions for Bailey to step toward him. She does what she is told and inches her way toward him. He grabs her arm and she winces from the pain.

"Do you have a brother, little one?" he asks her.

She gazes out into the crowd. I see her look at one boy. I catch his eye and shake my head. Lance Bloomer. I thought Bailey looked familiar.

"I have my brother, Lance," she answers.

"Okay, you have a few options. Send him into the Hunger Games as this lady's district partner. If you refuse, I'll push you into the pack of pit bulls. If you accept, you will be saved. I don't care what you do. I personally would like to see you die, but hey, it's all good. Do what you want. Take your pick," he tells her.

I glance over at Lance, the light blond boy who I never really met, but I know his story. He has a speech impediment and I see the kids bully him all the time. I find it funny sometimes, but when the pranks are directed to his sisters, that's when he fights back. I admire it. He loves his family. I wish I had him for a brother. He would be amazing.

"I don't want to die, but I don't want my brother to die either. He means so much to me," she tells Darren.

Lance steps out of the crowd and walks toward the stage. He climbs the steps and walks toward Bailey. He reaches out and wraps her in his arms. He holds her tightly and runs his hands through her hair. He glances over at me and politely smiles.

"It's…okay. I-I don't bl..blame you for this," he whispers.

"You can't go into the Hunger Games because of me. It's like I sent you into it myself. I don't want it to be like this," she tells him.

He pulls away from her and shakes his head.

"It's not like…like that at all. I-I promise," he whispers.

He glances over at Darren and walks toward him. He shakes his hand and smiles.

"I'm-I'm Lance Bloomer. Bailey is my sis-sister. I-I don't want her to die. I-I need to into the Hunger Games. Please…I-I want to do this," he tells Darren.

Darren stares at him and begins to laugh. He walks over to him and begins poking his cheek.

"Can't you talk, boy? What's wrong with you?"

Lance glances over at him. He shakes his head and turns to look at me. He gazes into my eyes and I smile. You can do it. You can stand up to him. Trust me.

"That's why I-I need to go in..into the Hunger Games. I-I need to pr-prove that I can do it," Lance tells him. I nod my head and smile. I hope he does prove that he can accomplish anything.

"Fine, then I hope you do it," Darren says. He turns to me and pushes me toward Lance. I look into his eyes and he smiles.

"What's your name?" Lance asks me.

"Ariel Cherry, but you can call me Cherry."

"Cherry…like the…fruit?" he asks with a smile. I laugh and nod my head.

"Exactly. Just, don't eat me in the Games," I tell him. He laughs and shrugs his shoulders.

"I-I can't guarantee that."

**A/N: Here you go. Sorry it took me a while to update. I wrote the chapter, but then I had some issues with my computer and I lost it. So, I had to rewrite it. It was a pain, but at least it is done now. I hope you enjoy. Also, I just want to remind everybody that this story is basically a test for myself as a writer. It's different than most stuff I wrote in the past. I just want to see where it takes me. Anyway, thanks for reading. I'll be posting pictures for Lance and Ariel soon. **

**As always, **

**Fiddlegirl**


	9. Chapter 9: District 4

**District 4 **

**Triton Bayer **

_The boat keeps swaying back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. The water sweeps onto the boat's wooden boards. My father slips on the deck and falls, hitting his head on the hard wood. He tries to stand up, but as he stares around at his surroundings, everything blurs out of vision. He rubs his eyes, but it only gets worse. _

_The winds pick up and before he knows it, his ship tips over toward the murky ocean water. My father screams and tries to hang onto the wood, but the waves sweep him underwater. He tries to surface, but the force is too strong. He dies in the water, struggling to break free, but losing oxygen every second. He dies in the water, fighting to get back to his family. He dies in the water, a loving father. He dies in the water, a true man he shall be. _

I wake up from my dream and I feel the sweat on my forehead. I reach up and wipe it away with the towel next to my bed. I always keep a towel there because I have this dream so many times. Lately, it has been every night. It's like my father is trying to send me a message. He died in a hurricane, but he wants me to fight for my life. Even though he failed in his struggle to survive, if I shall go into the Hunger Games today, he wants me to fight to survive.

Standing up from my bed, I walk over to my mirror. I gaze at myself, this person called Triton Bayer. I've got the classic jet black hair with the bright green eyes. I'm not too bad with the ladies, I suppose. I've never been with one, but if I was, I could give her a whirl.

I grab the first pair of black pants I can find and quickly slip them on my tan body. I grab my dark blue vest and slip it on. I gaze at myself in the mirror. Watch out, people. Triton Bayer is ready for the reapings.

I turn around and quickly walk out of my bedroom. My sister, Ariel, walks past me and shakes her head.

"What the hell do you want?" she asks me.

"I didn't even say anything," I respond.

"Yeah, but you have a weird face."

I stare at her and shake my head. Why does she always insist on bringing down my confidence? I'm already sensitive. Does she really have to make it worse?

"Can I just go to the reapings? Just because you're nineteen now and you don't have to go doesn't mean you have to make me feel bad," I tell her. She rolls her eyes and steps out of my way.

"Go to your death, stupid."

I walk past her and walk into the kitchen. I see my mother and immediately walk over to her.

"Bye, Mama. I'm going to the reapings."

"I wish you didn't have to go. Can't you just skip it?" she asks me.

"No, it's forbidden. I would be killed," I respond.

"But you may be killed if you're reaped. What's the difference?" she asks.

"Mama, I know it's been a hard year, with Dad dying and all, but I was never my father's son. I was never like him. I'm not going to die and leave you. I know how to fight," I tell her.

She looks up at me and nods her head. She leans up on her toes and kisses my cheek.

"I'll be praying for you. I love you, Triton. You're my baby. You always have and you always will."

"I know, Mama. I love you too."

I turn around and walk over to the backdoor to our house. I glance into the mirror and make sure my face isn't weird, like Ariel said. I smooth my hair and wink. I've still got it.

I open the door and step outside. I walk toward the district square. I don't know what's going to happen today. I'm seventeen years old. I have survived and witnessed many reapings, but there has been a rumor that this year's reapings are going to be different than the past years. Everything will be random and President Snow will make a personal video. I'm scared to see his face. He frightens me. With one snap of his fingers, he can have us killed. Maybe he will kill us at the reapings. I wouldn't be surprised.

I wouldn't be surprised one bit.

**Pearl Pierce **

As I dress today, I can't help feeling depressed. I know what today is. I mean, I'm not stupid. I know today is reaping day for the Hunger Games. I don't really know what to expect. I've been training for the Hunger Games for as long as I can remember. My older brother, Caspian, and I were the best. We were so good that we trained with people twice our age. Then we started beating them, and we knew something. We were special. We didn't know why, but we knew we were unique.

Maybe it was because we were siblings. But it wasn't just that. We were best friends. There isn't a day that goes by when I don't think about him. He volunteered when he was eighteen. He fought and he was really good. I remember watching the screen and thinking, "He's going to make it out of there! He's going to win!"

But he didn't. He came in third place, which is great, but for me, it was terrible. I lost my best friend, and nobody has replaced him. I can't imagine anyone ever replacing my brother. He was a big part of my life. No, he was my life.

I walk down the stairs toward the front door to the house. I open the door and turn back to wait for my sister, Pepple. She ran toward me and wrapped her arms around my neck. Hey, she's seven years old. She's allowed to do this.

"Pearl! I'm going to miss you so much!" she shouts.

"Why? I'm not going anywhere," I tell her.

"But you made a promise to Mom that you would volunteer."

I stare down at her and nod my head. Yeah, I sure did. I promised my mom I would volunteer this year. I'm eighteen years old. Caspian volunteered when he was eighteen, so maybe I should do the same thing. Besides, I promised my mom that if I volunteered, Pepple would never have to train for the Games and volunteer like Caspian and I did. It's a promise I am determined to keep.

"I know I promised her. I'm going to keep my promise. I love you, Peeple. I hope you always remember that," I tell her. She stares up at me and nods her head.

"I know," she says.

I look down at her once more before hugging her. I turn around and gaze outside. I sigh heavily and step out of my house.

"Tell Mom I love her, will you?" I ask Pepple as I walk down the pathway to the main road. I continue to walk until I arrive at the district square.

Gazing around, I try to find my best friends, Ula and Marina. I walk over to the check-in table and the lady gazes up at me.

"Name?" she asks in a monotone voice.

"Pearl Pierce."

"Would you stay here for a moment, please?" she asks me.

I gaze down at her and nod my head slowly. What the hell does she want from me? Aren't I supposed to go over and stand with the other girls? I look around and see some other people being held back too. What the hell?

"Pearl!"

I turn around and see Ula and Marina struggling to break free from two guards. I focus my eyes to make sure that my eyes aren't playing games with me. What are the guards doing? What are Ula and Marina trying to do?

"We want to see our friend! Just let us go!" Marina shouts.

I shake my head and step toward them, but my body suddenly feels like it is on fire. I push back and ram into the table. What the hell was that? They must have set some kind of invisible electric line around the table so the people who are forced to remain back don't cross over to see their family or friends. Why would they do? What are they going to do? But most importantly, why am I stuck in this group?

"Ula! Marina! It's okay! Stop fighting them! I'll see you after the reapings!" I shout to them.

The lady behind me smirks and I turn around to look at her.

"You'll see them after the reapings? Sure as hell you won't," she mutters underneath her breath. I step toward her and place my hands on the table. I lean forward and stare into her devilish eyes.

"What are you talking about? What do you know?" I ask her. She looks up at me and smiles.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out."

Behind me, I begin to hear applause. I turn around and my eyes wander around the district square. I see our district escort, Lukas, walk toward the microphone. He smiles and waves to the crowd, but I notice that he isn't paying attention to the ones over here where I am standing. It's like we are shunned from the rest of the district for being…ourselves.

"Hey, District Four! How is everyone doing today? I hope everyone is as excited for this year's Hunger Games season as I am. I am really fortunate to be the escort for District Four. You have no idea how important this is to me. You see, I grew up in District Four myself. Yes, yes, I grew up here and then I made my way to the Capitol by the time I was sixteen years old. I never went into the Hunger Games, but I always dreamed about it. Then, I became a Peacekeeper. I loved my position, but it got a little too demanding for my personal liking. So, I decided to become an escort. This is my first year ever being an escort and I hope I can help out the two tributes from this district."

As he talks, I can't help but shake my head at everything he is saying. I bet he's lying. Who doesn't lie in this crappy world we live in? Especially members of the Capitol. I bet President Snow himself wrote that speech for him. It seems like something he would do.

"President Snow would like to share a video with you. It will be really interesting to watch, so turn your attention to the screen," he tells us.

I keep my head focused on the ground. I don't want to see his face. I don't want to hear his voice. I just don't want to hear anything he has to say. He killed my brother. He helped my mother love the Hunger Games more than her own children. It's so true. My mom lived for the Hunger Games. That's why she always had us train at an early age. She wants us to be the best. She would make sure my long brown hair was always perfect and sexy. I don't care if I'm sexy or not. How does that help me in the arena? It doesn't. Someone will probably chop off my hair anyway.

I glance over at a boy with jet black hair standing next to me. He glances down at me because he noticed I was staring at me. He shakes his head.

"You hate this guy too?" I ask him. He nods his head.

"More than you know," he whispers.

"Do you know why we are held back here?" I ask him. He looks down at me and shakes his head.

"I don't know, but if you look around, you're the only girl here," he whispers.

I glance around the small group of people surrounding us. He's right. Everyone else is boys. I'm the only girl held back. What the hell is going to happen to us?

"That's interesting. I don't look like a boy, do I?" I ask him, smiling up at him. He looks down at me and shakes his head.

"No, you're too pretty." I look up at him and smile. At least he has a brain, but I wonder what he is thinking right now? What is in his mind?

**Triton Bayer **

"No, you're too pretty," I tell the girl standing next to me. She looks up at me and smiles slightly. I quickly look away and gulp. What the heck did I just do? I know I'm good looking and all, but I can't get a pretty girl like that. My sister is right. I do have a stupid face.

After President Snow's video is over, Lukas claps his hands enthusiastically. He turns toward the crowd and I swear he can't stop smiling like a dope.

"You heard what he said! Things are definitely going to be different this year. I don't want to scare anyone, but it begins with the reapings. You remember how the reapings used to be so basic and ordinary? There were two glass jars on both sides of the stage and I would pick one boy and one girl from each jar. We would ask for volunteers, and if no one volunteered, they would be the lucky victors for the district. Well, I hate to break it to you, but things are different this year. I don't want to scare you, but it won't be pretty. If you can see, a small group of people are standing near the table in the back of the square. Everyone, turn your attention to them," he tells the crowd.

Everybody turns to stare at us. I glance down at my feet because I don't want to see them looking at me, almost laughing at us. I don't know why we are here, but I know it's not good. I also don't know why there is only one girl here. What are they going to make us do? Rape her? I highly doubt that.

"They were chosen by Max, the head Gamemaker, to already go into a battle. There is only one girl in the crowd. Max already chose her to be the tribute, but if she is killed during this battle, well, then this might just be the first year where two boys go into the Hunger Games from one district. Wouldn't that be exciting? Keep that in mind, boys," Lukas tells us.

I glance down at the girl standing next to me. Battle? I don't think I can do this. Sure, I know how to fight, but what about this girl? She not only has to fight to get into the Games, but she also has to fight to save her life. That poor girl.

I reach down and lace my fingers into the girl's hand standing next to me. She looks down at our hands and then looks up at me. I shrug my shoulders. She reminds me of my sister. Somebody has to protect her, right?

"We will give you equipment to use during the battle, but if you get too aggressive with this, the guards will take care of you. Everyone else in the crowd, you're probably wondering why you're still here. You're just here to watch the show. If they all die, then you guys will have your own battle. But let me tell you something. It's a lot harder to survive in a battle with hundreds of people than to survive a battle with only ten people," Lukas tells us.

I look up at him and shake my head. Why is he doing this? We didn't do anything wrong to deserve this kind of treatment. We are just living in this district. As much as I like my family and appreciate what my father did for us, sometimes I wish they never had sex in order to give birth to me. I mean, I guess they wanted to have intimate moments, but is this really worth it? Is my death worth anything?

"I'm not weak, you know," the girl whispers underneath her breath. I turn my head and look down at her. She glances up at me and shakes her head. "I know I'm a girl, but I can manipulate minds as easily as anyone else. I'm strong. My brother taught me that."

"Who is your brother?" I ask her.

"Caspian Pierce."

"You mean to tell me your brother is the tribute who came in 3rd place not too long ago? He was really good!"

She smiles and nods her head. "Of course he was. He should have won too."

"Maybe it's your turn to win," I whisper. She looks up into my eyes and squints her eyes. She shakes her head and squeezes my hand.

"You befriended me but you don't even know me," she says. I shrug my shoulders. "No, don't shrug your shoulders like that. It means you don't think you're doing a good thing."

"How do you know that?" I ask her. She looks up at me and smirks.

"I'm not stupid."

Suddenly, a bell rings throughout the district. We both glance up to look at Lukas.

"FIGHT!" he shouts into the microphone.

I turn around and grab the nearest weapon I can find, a fishing hook. I stare down at it and laugh. I fish every day. Who knew it could ever come in handy?

I turn around and see a boy running toward me. He starts shouting and before he can reach me, I jam the hook into his throat, practically stabbing him to death. He pukes up blood and spits it right into my eye. I gasp and fall back onto my butt. I stare up at the guy. What the hell, dude?

I quickly wipe the blood away and watch the boy fall to his knees, collapsing at my feet. I look up and see the girl twisting a guy's head from side to side, snapping his neck multiple times. The boy shouts in pain and finally collapses, unable to breathe any longer. I smile and give her a thumbs up. She glares at me and flips me off.

Okay, love you too.

I turn around to kill someone else, but I see that there are only two boys left. What the heck happened to the other guys? I look around and see the girl covered in blood. Did she kill everyone else? How can a girl like that possibly be this…dangerous?

I walk over to the last two boys remaining and stare over their bodies. They must be twelve years old. They stare up at me in fear. I turn around and snap my finger. The girl marches over me and stares down at the boys.

"Why aren't you trying to kill us?" the girl asks them.

"We…we don't fight," they tell us.

"Then you obviously don't belong in the Hunger Games," she responds.

She bends down on their knees and stares into their eyes. She taps their knees and shakes her head.

"I made a promise to my mother that I would go into the Hunger Games for my sister. My brother died in the Games. I need to go in, do you understand?" she asks. Then she glances up at me. "This guy right here, he's a pretty good partner. He may not be the best fighter, but I saw him kill a guy with a simple fish hook. You're twelve years old. I don't want to kill you. I can do it. I've been trained to kill. It's my duty in life. I can kill you, but I don't want to do that. So, make it easy on my part and just kill yourselves. I won't even watch. Just do it though or I will kill you without even looking back."

I look down at the girl and something begins to stir within me. I'm not sure what it is, but as I stare at her, I think about how lucky I will be to have her be my district partner. She was right. She can manipulate people.

"We don't want to commit suicide," they tell her.

"Oh, I would do what she says. She's serious," I tell them.

"I told you my story and I expect you to listen to me. I am older than you, you know. I can kill you right now. It will be bloody and your families will never forgive me. Is that what you want? Just do it," she pressures.

"No!" they shout.

She leans forward and grabs their necks with both of her hands. She begins to squeeze until they close their eyes. She scream and cough for air.

"Let..us…go!"

"Not until you kill yourselves!" she shouts.

"You can't make us do anything! You don't own us!" they scream into her face.

She looks up at me and shakes her head. Oh shit. They leave her no choice. She gave them the chance to die a peaceful death, but now it's too late.

She leans down and kisses a boy on the lips. Once he grows limp from the shock of the beautiful girl kissing him, she takes out a knife from insider her yellow dress. She continues to kiss the boy, making sure he is unaware of what she is about to do to him. I gaze down at the scene as I see her slit the boy's throat. He screams out in pain and she tosses his body to the side. She looks up at me and then turns to the other boy.

He tries to scoot away from her, for he doesn't want to die. She grabs his legs and pulls him toward her. He screams and shakes his head.

"My brother died in the Hunger Games too! Please don't kill me!" he shouts. She looks down at him and smiles.

"Then you're about to see your brother again," she whispers. She glances up at me and I actually see a tear form in the corner of her right eye. She gulps and closes her eyes.

She begins to unbutton his dress shirt and looks down at his chest. She glances up at him and smiles.

"You are a very handsome boy."

Then with one quick move, she raises her hand into the air and stabs him in the chest, right into the heart. He screams bloody murder and before we know it, he's dead. She keeps her hand on the knife and I notice that her back is moving quickly from her increased breaths.

She finally releases her grasp on the knife and stands up from the dirt. She turns to look at me and then shakes her head.

"You could have helped me, you know," she says.

"You seemed to know what you were doing."

"But I didn't know. I've trained for the Hunger Games with my brother, but this was different. Everything is different, don't you see?" she asks me.

I step forward and wrap my arms around her body for a quick hug. She pushes me away and stares into my eyes.

"It'll be okay. We're going to be a team now, so we have to trust each other," I tell her. She stares at me and nods her head. She smiles slightly, and for a second, I see a little twinkle in her eye.

"You're right. We're in this together, until we die," she says.

"It's a deal."

She extends her hand and I shake it. We look at each other and smile. It's a deal. We're going to be team members, and I couldn't ask for a better partner.

We're perfect.

**A/N: When I began writing this chapter, I had no idea things were going to turn out quite like it did. I am actually proud of it though. I hope you guys enjoy. Is there anything you guys would like to see in the next upcoming chapters? Let me know and I'll try to incorporate it. Thanks for the reviews. Keep them coming. I really appreciate the support. I have the district 4 pictures up on my profile, so check those out. Who is your favorite character at this moment? I'm interested in knowing. Thanks again. I'll try to update as soon as I can. **

**As always, **

**Fiddlegirl **


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